


The Heat of the Desert Won't Dry Your Tears

by StTabris



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Noir, Author Tracts, Black and Gray Morality, Brainwashing, Child Murder, Drug-Induced Sex, Extremely Underage, F/M, Gun Violence, Half-Sibling Incest, Ideology, Japanese-American Character, Lolicon, M/M, Military Background, Military Jargon, Multi, Necrophilia, Shotacon, Song Lyrics, Terrorism, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 04:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16401113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StTabris/pseuds/StTabris
Summary: With their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor, a former Navy SEAL and his comrades follow a trail of terror through border-town back alleys, the Sonoran Desert and the maquiladoras and colonias to the south, meeting broken souls, desperate families and a depraved but cunning evil.





	The Heat of the Desert Won't Dry Your Tears

**_The revolutionary enters the world of the State, of the privileged classes, of the so-called civilization, and he lives in this world only for the purpose of bringing about its speedy and total destruction. He is not a revolutionary if he has any sympathy for this world. He should not hesitate to destroy any position, any place, or any man in this world. He must hate everyone and everything in it with an equal hatred._ **

**—** **Sergey** **Nechayev**

_**Hell is other people.** _

**— Jean-Paul Sartre  
**

* * *

**Santa Teresita, Sonora, Mexico**

" _¿Qué esfinge de cemento y aluminio reventó sus cráneos y devoró sus_ _cerebros y su imaginación?_ "

The faithful of Santa Teresita ignored the derelict. They were long since used to his presence. He spent most of his time around their humble church, though at least he kept outside most of the time. The _padre_ tolerated him, even invited him to Divine Liturgy though the man always stank of _mota_. In the priest's own words: " _¿Qué es uno más persona perdida?_ What's one more lost soul?"

" _¡Moloch! ¡Moloch! ¡Pesadilla de Moloch! ¡Moloch el sin amor! ¡Moloch mental! ¡Moloch el inmisericorde juez de los hombres! ¡Moloch prisión incomprensible!_ "

They were the dregs of the town. Everyone else had moved north, from where they sent their hard-earned dollars to fund the one institution willing to help their families and friends. What did the _chingadas_ _yanquis_ care? Americans succumbed more and more to religious desuetude and instead put their faith in money or drugs or identity—or worst of all, the _state!_ Not like _los_ _santateresitanos_ : they knew better!

" _¡Moloch! ¡Moloch! ¡Robóticos apartamentos! ¡Suburbios invisibles! ¡Tesorerías esqueléticas! ¡Capitales ciegos! ¡Demoníacas industrias! ¡Naciones espectrales! ¡Manicomios invencibles! ¡Penes de granito! ¡Bombas monstruosas!_ "

The last few devotees shut the doors behind them, muting the vagrant's increasingly manic recitation of Allen Ginsberg (some would've preferred Jack Kerouac _ob mutatio_ ). They were early, or perhaps the _padre_ was still in the little built-in rectory, struggling through a hangover to don his vestments—even priests had vices, his being a weakness for whiskey. This being the sole Eastern Orthodox church in Sonora, no bishop, deacon or choir was to be found. _Ob_ _ispos_ , even Orthodox ones, were considered _fariseos_ and not to be trusted regardless, so most of the liturgy was skipped for expediency.

A little over a quarter of an hour passed before the congregation began to worry. A small group got up from the pews and headed for the rectory, calling out for the _padre_.

That was when they smelled it.

" _¡Visiones! ¡Presagios! ¡Alucinaciones!_ _¡Milagros!_ _¡Éxtasis!_ "

" _¡PADRE!_ " They tried to open the rectory door, but it was locked. With some battering, the lock broke and the door flew open. Terror gave way to horror.

A 55-gallon steel drum sat in the rectory—and in it, the near-incinerated corpse of the priest. His carbonized skull was fixed in the expression of an agonized scream. The burnt remnants of his vestments made for a grim decoration. In front of the drum stood a spray-painted cardboard sign.

 **PORQUE PODRÍAMOS**  
**PORQUE QUERÍAMOS HACERLO**  
**PORQUE LO HAREMOS**

" _¡Arrastrados todos por el río americano! ¡Sueños! ¡Adoraciones! ¡Iluminaciones! ¡Religiones! ¡TODO EL CARGAMENTO DE SENSIBLERA BAZOFIA!_ "

* * *

It was cold and dim, but neither kid cared. The girl braced herself on hands and knees, naked, as the boy, also naked, licked her anus and fondled himself, coaxing quiet moans and whimpers out of her. After a few minutes, he placed his penis at her glistening star and forced it inside. It was hot and tight. The girl’s vocalizations became louder as the boy sodomized her. 

The guard watched, stony-faced, a machete in his hand and a protuberance in his pants.

As the other child continued to buttfuck her, the little girl felt something wrap around her neck. She was suddenly and violently pulled back, her scream of mortal terror choked off. The boy’s member swelled and penetrated deeper inside her as her trachea closed. She clutched at the garrote, but already the lack of air was weakening her. Through the fog of asphyxia, she could hear the boy moaning in ecstasy and feel his immature seed filling her. Then her windpipe caved in. The last thing she felt, however remotely, was her bowels releasing. 

The boy withdrew from the corpse. The guard handed him the machete. With it, he hacked off the dead girl's head. Blood spattered his body, the walls, the floor. The boy, covered in blood, cum, and shit, knelt before the armed man, unzipped his pants and began stimulating his erection with mouth and tongue. The guard met his empty eyes and spoke to him:

" _Está listo._ "


End file.
